"What... what just happened there?" Aveline asked. "Where's Fenris?"

"Catching up with his sister," Hawke said blandly, watching them both out of the corner of her eye. The spell was a powerful one, but Aveline had a stubborn grip on reality and Varric was a dwarf. "I'm sure they'll be back in a bit."

Varric glanced around, as if expecting to see them, then shrugged. "Gotta love a happy ending," he grinned. "After... well, after everything that's happened, it's good to see Broody find some family."

"I just hope she hates mages as much as he does," Hawke said, trying to staunch her bleeding palm under the table. It's stupid that I have to hide it. I could just thrall them both and then it wouldn't... Hawke cut off that train of thought. She wasn't supposed to thrall old friends like Varric and Aveline, except when it was absolutely necessary, like just now. Why is wrong, though? And why is it so hard to remember why I drew those lines?

The pair stared at her. Was that an odd thing to say? Unable to wave her hand, Hawke settled for a shrug. "Otherwise, she's come a long way for no purpose."

That seemed to satisfy them. "Hey, speaking of no purpose," Varric said, turning to Aveline, "I guess we're free for the evening if Fenris and Varania have wandered off."

Aveline frowned. "Relatively speaking. I have a husband to go home to, you know."

"Of course. It's just that -" Varric hesitated for the barest second, and Hawke's eyes narrowed. Is Varric bullshitting?That was hardly a rare occurrence, but considering the timing... Had he avoided the blood control? If he was about to suggest a trip for him and Aveline down to the docks without her, she'd have her answer...

"Since we were all planning on chaperoning Broody and his sister, and now they've gone for some privacy -" He's recapping. It was one of Varric's tells around the gaming table; when he was summarizing information they all knew already, he was stalling while his brain worked on something else. "- I thought we might instead -"

"Champion!" The shout came from outside, then the Hanged Man's sticky door flew open, admitting a raggle-taggle youth Hawke recognized as one of the Mage Underground. "Champion, I have an urgent message for you!"

Hawke bit back annoyance at the timing. Whatever tale Varric was spinning, the interruption surely gave him enough time to finish it. She might as well take the message away from prying ears - including her companions. "Your palatial suite is my palatial suite, right?" she smirked, pointing the lad toward the back of the taproom. "Hold that thought, Varric, I'll be right back."

She had to move quickly to keep up; the boy scampered across the room and barreled up the short set of stairs. He waited, almost vibrating with impatience, until she got there and directed him into Varric's room. "I take it this is urgent," she said, shutting the door.

"The First Enchanter sent me. You need to be on your guard; the templars have hired mercenaries to kill you!"

Hawke put a hand to her forehead. "No, they didn't. That makes no sense." Magic-nullifying templars wouldn't send mundane soldiers after an apostate, especially not after one as powerful as herself. She was tempted, unnecessarily, to use magic to get the actual message out of the boy. Ridiculous - he was eager and willing, and just needed clear instruction. "Tell me what the First Enchanter actually said."

The boy took a few deep breaths, thinking hard. "Mages in the Gallows overheard two wild elves and a foreign mage talking to the Knight-Captain about you and your friends. They were angry; one's a Grey Warden. The Knight-Captain told them to look here, in the Hanged Man."

"A Grey Warden? Sounds like they're looking for Anders, not me." She'd noted the strange mage in the tavern earlier; his guards had been elves, hadn't they? They hadn't paid her any mind at all. But if what the messenger said was true, perhaps they just didn't know what to look for. "I think your 'mercenaries' are out in the tavern right now. You head out the back while I take care of the problem." Hawke smiled, and it was all teeth.

But her targets were gone. Anders, on the other hand, had arrived. "Sounds like I missed Fenris behaving like a civilized being," he said as she drew near, a second voice under and behind his flesh one. She'd learned to listen for it - with her ears or with magic, she wasn't entirely sure which - even when his spirit lay quiescent.

"Indeed. He hardly snapped or growled at all," Hawke smiled. "Did any of you happen to notice the mage who was sitting over there? Where did he go?"

"With those two Dalish?" Of course Aveline had noticed. The guard captain looked to the table in question with surprise. "I didn't see them leave... but they're not there. Odd."

"I would have seen them if they went out the front," Varric said, waving towards the Hanged Man's main door. "Maybe they took a room, went upstairs?"

"Why? What's wrong?" Anders, perceptive as ever, asked.

Hawke's lips thinned. She'd been paying attention to Fenris and Danarius, and then to Aveline and Varric - if the trio had left while the blood control was active, they might not remember what they saw. "The templars are getting more bold - and more foolish. Orsino says they've put a Grey Warden and some lackeys on our trail. There's a human mage and two Dalish; I don't know which is the Warden."

Anders sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead. "Two Dalish? Both women?" At Hawke's nod, he shook his head. "Commander Mahariel and Velanna, probably. They're dangerous, sweetheart. We'll have to be careful."

And that was it. The last straw.

"Be careful? Have to be careful?" Hawke hissed. She shook her head. "I am tired of being careful, Anders. I am this city's Champion and I have power. Why am I the one who has to be careful? Meredith, now she needed to be careful of me - and she hasn't been, Anders. She hasn't been careful at all!"

"Hawke, try to calm down," Aveline said, brow creased with worry. "The Knight Commander -"

"The Knight-Commander has made a critical mistake, Guard Captain. She is going to learn her place, step down, and allow a proper viscount to take charge of the city. Tonight."

Aveline did not back down easily, not when her mind was her own. "And who's a proper viscount, Hawke? Who do we have who can stabilize this city?"

"I was thinking... me." Because I'm the Champion, and I have the strength and the will.

"You? Hawke, that's impossible! You can't take a throne, you're a -"

You're a mage. A quick paralysis spell prevented Aveline from finishing that thought. It's not blood magic so that makes it all right. She shouldn't interrupt me."You know, I'm fairly certain that won't be an impediment at all. Come on, Anders. The new age of liberation begins here, tonight, now!"

She could feel his spirit-side surge with the promise of action. "You will stand with me against the Chantry's injustice?" The echo under his voice was louder, stronger.

She clasped his hand and gazed into his dark eyes, where a lyrium-blue light flickered. "And I will rain vengeance down on any who think they will stop us," she promised. The blue light flashed, and they ran out the door together.

Varric downed his drink. "That," he nodded at the swinging door, "does not sound good." He glanced up at Aveline, still immobile in the grip of Hawke's spell. "As soon as you're able, let's go find Fenris."

"Champion! So you received my message?"

Orsino and Meredith bickered in the Gallows courtyard as she approached, Merrill trailing behind her uncertainly. She'd picked up the blood mage on the way; Anders had pointed out that Commander Mahariel could as easily be hunting for her blood as his.

The First Enchanter broke off to appeal to her. "She is paranoid, seeing blood mages under every bed in the Gallows! No matter what we do, it is never enough!"

"No, it never is," Hawke agreed. "Knight-Commander, it is time for you to stop your ceaseless persecution of Kirkwall's mages."

"Paranoia? Need I remind you that a cabal of blood mages within the Gallows suborned a number of my templars and indeed, kidnapped your man? It is hardly paranoia to investigate how deeply the corruption runs!"

"And I have assisted your investigations!" Orsino fumed. "And they have led to nothing! The perpetrators have been caught, Knight-Commander. It is over."

Meredith pointed a gauntleted finger at him. "I will determine when the investigation is -"

"Actually, no," Hawke interrupted her. The Knight-Commander turned, eyes wide with anger. "As viscount, I will determine when the investigation is over. And it is complete, as of now."

"You presume," the templar sneered. "Even if you were the viscount, Champion, you would have no authority over the Templar Order. We answer to the Grand Cleric and the Chantry."

Anders stepped out of the shadows, and Hawke smiled. "Yes. About that..."

The stone under their feet shook. Orsino, looking bewildered, said, "That was no spell."

And then the alchemical bomb blew.

Red-violet light speared upward into the sky above Kirkwall with an unholy shriek. Meredith and Orsino both turned to stare in horror. "No more Chantry," Hawke said.

Anders, eyes flashing blue, said, "No more templars. No more injustice."

Merrill covered her mouth. "Creators..."

Orsino backed away from them both. "This... this is madness. What have you done?"

"She's gone too far," Meredith growled. Hawke smirked, readying a spell that would put the templar in her place, and -

- screamed as her mana was torn from her body. Anders had fallen on his knees beside her, the Fade-light in his eyes gone; Merrill was prostrate on the ground. Shaking, half-blinded by tears, she reached for her blooding knife, only to have it fall from her numb fingers and clatter on the marble courtyard.

"I have been remiss in my duty for too long," Meredith said, approaching with a strange red blade drawn. Red lyrium! Hawke could feel its power calling to her. She couldn't reach it, couldn't reach any power that might keep that blade from her neck -

Except one. One who had been waiting for her for years, for Ages, the unsleeping guardian of the city. Hawke knew her, had heard her ancient voice sounding in her dreams, ever since she had found Tarohne's hidden volumes of dark mysteries. She had been her tutor in the sacred mysteries of blood, asking for nothing in return for the power granted... but returning in the dark of the morning to whisper of conquest and domination and a life without fear. Summoned by the sacrifices of Tevinter, she waited with immortal patience for the soul who would dare to serve as her avatar. And she was there, now, taloned hand extended to make a compact that would leave Hawke both more and less than she was now. It would be enough power to destroy Meredith, to remake Kirkwall, to save Anders.

Xebenkeck, I am yours!

Thunder boomed as the stones of the Chantry were flung violently over Kirkwall. The shockwave threw everyone to the ground, and when Meredith regained her feet, so did Hawke, red light spilling out from underneath her skin.

"You showed me the way, my love!" she shouted, her voice distorted strangely, to a horrified Anders. "The city knew what sort of Champion it wanted - what it deserved! What it was created for! And I am become that Champion!"

"Hawke... no," Anders whispered hoarsely.

"And we see again that no mage can resist the lure of power." Meredith crouched behind her shield. "First Enchanter, you will assist me in destroying these abominations."

Hawke turned her fiery eyes on the elf. "For once in your pitiful life, Orsino, slip your collar. Stand with me! Anders - I come with Vengeance, for a superior people too long oppressed! It is lovely chaos and glorious change, a sign of a new order come to the world! Come, take your place beside me as we usher in this new and terrifying era!"

The apostate hesitated, his own reawakening guardian daemon twisting and writhing within him as it tried to resolve what it was becoming, and how far was too far. Blue light flashed, but before Anders/Vengeance could say anything, Meredith charged him. She lashed out with her shield, and the blow sent Anders sprawling.

Hawke snarled and flung her hand toward the templar. Ice, cold as the farthest reaches of the Fade, appeared at her command. She could feel Meredith's lyrium-enhanced resistance, feel it crumble under the weight of her/Xebenkeck's ancient power. The templar stopped, frozen in place, and it would just take one stonefist to do it -

Her spell was interrupted by a bolt of arcane energy, one strong enough to sear her mortal body. She whirled on Orsino, lips curled. "Traitor."

The elven archmage leveled his triple snake-headed staff at her. "On the contrary. It is you who have betrayed your humanity." He cast again, one of the telekinetic spells that were his specialty, a constricting cage that would have ground her bones one against the other - were she not ready for it.

Xebenkeck knew secrets past any mortal mage's ken. She held up her hand, palm out, and the crushing prison rebounded on its caster, holding Orsino fast in a trap of his own making. He could only scream once before the air was driven from his lungs.

"Hawke. Please don't. Please stop." Merrill had set down her staff and approached with open hands.

"Merrill," Hawke said warmly, turning from Orsino. "You are one of my people. You understand the way to power. Audacity was cheating you, trying to escape his prison. I am here, manifest, with no need to trick or cheat or lie. I can give you your eluvian; summon spirits to whisper ancient songs in your ear, Merrill. Come; we will build a new temple on the ashes of the Chantry, and you will be its priestess, spreading new canticles across Thedas. Human or elf, so long as mage! A new empire, Merrill!"

"I... Hawke, the eluvian, the history... it's for my people. Orsino is an elf, he is my people, too. Will you... will you stop hurting him, please, Hawke?"

Hawke sighed, glancing at Meredith's fading icy prison. This was not the time for this conversation. "Siding with the weak? This is not the hour for compassion, Merrill. You will understand; I know you will. I had hoped for better. You want him? Here." Hawke gestured, as if skipping a stone across still waters, and Orsino flew through the air, smashing into Merrill and sending them both crashing into a white stone wall.

The ice cracked and gave way; Meredith wasted no time in charging her...

Aveline led the mad, hasted (courtesy of the mage) dash along the docks. Traders and merchants stood on the decks of their ships, staring towards where the Chantry had been and debating the state of the wind and tides. They didn't know what had just happened, and most didn't want to stay to find out.

The gate separating this harbor from the seaward approach to the city would be coming up soon. Seven years ago, she'd arrived in Kirkwall on the other side of the gate, trapped there with the other refugees who couldn't afford to have it opened, to access the harbor like a legitimate trader. If it hadn't been for Hawke and her filthy uncle, she might have never gotten past it.

But now, as Guard Captain, she had the sodding key.

It was in her hand as they rounded a bend, feet echoing hollowly on the wooden pier. The gate was ahead, filled wall to water with the templars screaming for help. She bent her head and forced more speed into her steps, until she drove the key into the lock like a lance.

The gate swung open, and the templars stumbled back. Following them were more templars... but not. An arm was missing here; Chantry armor was blackened with arcane fire there; and all advanced with the swaying, lurching gait of the undead.

"You men! Shield wall! What are you, recruits?" Aveline bellowed over the confusion of combat, trying to bring the templars into some semblance of order. Some, still panicked, fled; others heeded her call and formed up alongside her. Shields together, they created a barrier that was protection for the mage and archers behind her. Bianca's familiar tat tat tat rang out, along with the Grey Warden's softer thwip! thwip! Bolts and arrows and the occasional flash of magical lightning arched over their heads, finding targets among the walking corpses. Fenris and the Dalish elf threaded their way past the right flank, harrying the undead and pushing them to either the sea or the shield wall.

The line held. They had to fall back, time and again, as more waves of dead templars broke against their shields, but the line held. The Ferelden mage poured healing magic into them, kept them whole, especially the poor sods on the flanks who got the worst of it. Some fell, but mercifully did not rise again.

Eventually, it ended.

They remained on their guard let a bit longer, but Aveline spared a breath to ask the templar next to her, "What happened?"

The man, panting inside his helmet, answered without taking his eyes off of the gate to the Gallows. "The Champion's an abomination! The Knight-Commander is dead, we came too late. Knight-Captain ordered the Gallows abandoned so we can evacuate the area. But we got separated and trapped by those... horrors."

"Evacuate to where?"

"Viscount's Keep, Guard-Captain. It's the most defensible position, after the Gallows."

"And where's the Champion?"

"Don't know, Guard-Captain. Last we saw her was in the Gallows Courtyard." The armored head shook. "Our orders are specific, ser. We have to get to the Keep."

"Those," Aveline replied, "are your orders. Not mine."